"Just a few more weeks," chimes the voice in my head "just a few more kilos, then you'll be happy maintaining."
I've been playing the same game for years, and I know I'll never win. I'll never be thin enough, yet I still keep trying. I could lose another 20lb, and still want to lose 'just a few more'. But those poisonous whispers still sound so sweet.
On a lighter note, Mum told me the other day that I've "lost more weight in [my] right ear". Apparently she's noticed my piercing jewelry seriously needing a downsize (ditto for my navel and napes). Needless to say, it sent me into a fit of laughter. It just seemed hilarious at the time. "Dear God, not my right ear!"
I drank last night, after a day full of stress and anxiety. As well as a hearty dinner to soak it up, the total damage was only 1,205 for the day - 300 beforehand, 500 for wine, 400 for dinner. A lot of it came back up, anyway (whoopsie). Honestly, I'm not drinking that often. Once or twice a week, though that's still too much. My dietician says that all calories have some nutritional value for me, even the empty ones. So that eases the guilt a tiny bit, strangely enough.
I'll be ending today closer to 550 calories, and tomorrow will probably be similar. To be honest, I think I need a daily bitch-slap from my dietician. On Tuesday, I might ask her to write me a frank note for me to look at each morning. Maybe I'll do some goal-setting with her too, if I feel less conflicted about it by then.
I'm also trying to keep up with this 'boosting my self-esteem' thing, so I dyed and straightened my hair. I absolutely love having freshly dyed hair, I should really do it more often.